


A little two-part harmony

by SDJ2



Category: Simon & Garfunkel
Genre: 1970s, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Honestly what was the whole 1975 SNL performance even?, Inspired by Real Events, It was foreplay that's what it was, M/M, RPF, music rpf - Freeform, real person fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-18
Updated: 2020-10-18
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:00:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,534
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26661823
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SDJ2/pseuds/SDJ2
Summary: 18 October 1975.A little two-part harmony, behind the locked door of Paul's Saturday Night Live dressing room.
Relationships: Art Garfunkel/Paul Simon
Comments: 2
Kudos: 9





	A little two-part harmony

**Author's Note:**

> Today it's been exactly 45 years since the second episode of Saturday Night Live aired, featuring both Paul and Art. That whole performance is quite the thing. There's a crazy amount of flirting going on. Paul stares at Art like he wants to devour him whole. 
> 
> So, obviously I had to immortalize this tension in a fic.

“Fuck,” Paul mumbled, as he backed Art against the wall of his dressing room, “it _was_ really good to sing with you again.” The next moment, Art’s tongue was stuck halfway down Paul’s throat and Art’s hands were squeezing Paul’s ass through his jeans.

“Did you honestly think,” Art wondered, while pulling back from the heated kiss just long enough to rid Paul of the blazer he was wearing, “that when I said that two-part harmony was the greatest, I was thinking about _singing_ with you?” 

“Fuck,” Paul repeated, while with one of his hands he pulled Art’s head back by the hair to be able to plant long, wet and noisy kisses on Art’s neck. “You have such a dirty mind.”

Art laughed, his Adam’s apple bobbing up and down while his head was still thrown back, a Paul Simon attached to the underside of his chin. “ _I_ have the dirty mind? Meanwhile it was _you_ who kept staring at me the whole damn time. You were basically checking out my crotch.”

[ ](https://imgbb.com/)

“And what a great crotch it is,” Paul said appreciatively, and pulled away from his spot between Art’s neck and Art’s shoulder to look down between their bodies. Their jeans hid most of their erections, but when Paul tentatively squeezed Art’s dick through the thick, blue tissue of Art’s jeans, Art was definitely hard, a fact only reinforced by the sharp intake of breath coming from Art’s mouth.

“On national television, Paul. People saw you stare at my crotch on television,” Art reprimanded, but the glint in his eyes told Paul Art couldn’t care less, and had probably even been a little turned on by the scrutiny he had been subjected to. And what Paul said was true. It _had_ been good to sing with Art again. Paul had to admit that he missed Art by his side, sometimes. Perhaps he _had_ stared at Art, as if he had been trying to commit the sight of Art next to him to memory, again. Still, Art was one to talk.

“This coming from the guy who almost smacked my ass on national television,” Paul smiled. “There were audience members behind us too, you know.”

[](https://imgbb.com/)

“Yeah, yeah,” Art said distractedly, pulling Paul close again to slot their hips together, “stop talking and do that thing with your hands.”

The corner of Paul’s mouth shot up, a lopsided grin appearing on his face. “My, we’re being a little impatient today, aren’t we?” he said, but he was already fumbling with the buttons on Art’s shirt anyway.

“That shirt looks good on you,” Paul told Art, “but it’ll have to go.”

While Paul was still working on the buttons of Art’s shirt, Art as well pulled on the hems of Paul’s shirt that was tucked in his jeans, and started walking Paul back to the couch at the same time. 

“You know, I was looking at you from behind when you were doing your solo number,” Paul said, watching how Art removed his shirt and starting to work on getting rid of his own. He’d been pushed down into the couch by Art who was now towering over him, the heat of Art’s arousal palpable in the air between them. “Let me tell you, that visual of your hands in the pockets of your jeans, quite a sight to behold, Artie. Not sure that’s the way you’re supposed to be standing on a stage, but damn.” Paul whistled through his teeth in reinforcement of how hot Art had been looking in those jeans, long, slender limbs and his ass accentuated. “I literally depicted the lyrics of the song you were singing,” Paul finished.

Art grinned, and it was a further testament of how not angry they were with each other at the moment, that Art said “I much prefer you next to me on the stage” instead of commenting on Paul lusting after his body.

“Hell, I prefer you next to me off stage as well,” Art continued, his voice lowered half an octave, and Paul felt a jolt of arousal course through him at the words. “Fuck,” he stated a third time, and immediately had his hands paw at the button of Art’s jeans, pulling the zipper down and yanking Art’s briefs down in the blink of an eye.

Art sighed when his cock was freed and he put his hands on Paul’s shoulder to support his buckling knees when Paul put his mouth on the head and swallowed it down as far as his throat allowed it, Paul’s hands splayed on Art’s buttocks pulling Art’s hips closer to his mouth. Paul picked up the pace, tried to keep up with Art’s increasingly agitated movements. Paul felt Art’s desperate attempt to hold back on full on fucking his mouth, and Paul’s own dick still trapped inside of his jeans twitched in very optimistic interest.

“Come _on_ ,” Paul murmured impatiently around Art’s cock in his mouth, and Art took action immediately, moving one of his hands from Paul’s shoulder to the back of Paul’s neck, the other fisted in his hair, thereby fully in control of how fast and how deep he’d watch his dick disappear and appear from between Paul’s lips. “Fuuuuck,” Art groaned after only three or four thrusts, but sensing that he had given enough warning to Paul with that and Paul moaning loudly in acquiescence, tensed and then spilled inside Paul’s mouth. Paul enthusiastically sucked every last drop out of him, wiping his mouth and looking up at Art in smug satisfaction when he finally released his grip on Art’s dick.

“Come here,” Art said, pulling Paul up from his seated position on the couch to kiss him, probably tasting himself on Paul’s tongue, the thought of which made Paul even harder than he already was. Art giggled a bit, and when Paul pulled back and looked at him questioningly, the crinkles next to Art’s eyes had multiplied. Art motioned to Paul’s face with his chin. “Your mustache,” he explained, touching it with his thumb, “also quite the visual when my cock is in your mouth.” Before Paul could protest, Art smiled encouragingly. “Don’t get me wrong, I like it. But it tickles when I’m kissing you. Did mine also do that back in the day?”

“Obviously,” Paul remarked without missing a beat, “and I remember it tickling in other places than on my mouth.” Paul shot Art a meaningful look and eagerly grabbed Art’s hand to place it purposely over his own crotch, his erection straining in his trousers. This time it was Art who grinned. “And then _I’m_ the impatient one,” Art said, but he pushed Paul down again and quickly followed suit, kneeling on the floor in front of the couch, his pants still around his ankles, and displayed as similar a skill and acquaintance with liberating his partner’s genitals from their underwear prison as Paul has revealed earlier.

After Paul’s orgasm, and after Paul was done laughing because Art’s hair reached such a height it came up to Paul’s navel at one point, a knock sounded on the door. Paul was very happy to have had at least the presence of mind to lock the door before he’d ushered Art in before, the tension and flirting between them so noticeable that Paul had been having trouble keeping a straight face on camera. “Mr. Simon,” a female voice said, “we need you out here to go over something with Lorne about one of the scenes, please?”

“Okay, I’m coming,” Paul answered loudly, and heard the intern’s – or whatever she was – footsteps moving away from the door.

“Again, already?” Art sniggered, and Paul wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time.

As they were both reluctantly pulling up their trousers and tried to look somewhat presentable again, Paul had to ask. “Will I see you at the party later?” There was a bit of a hopeful tone in his voice, and it was particularly hard to conceal it while Art was staring at him.

“Yes,” Art answered.

“Okay,” Paul said.

“Paul?”

“Yeah?”

“Take me home after the party?”

Art’s tone was joking but Paul knew that Art was still reeling from the bitter dispute with his soon-to-be ex-wife and was barely holding on. Paul knew how that felt, as he had his own post-divorce emotional baggage to carry. And then there was also the passionate turmoil that his relationship with Art brought to the table, but Paul wasn’t able, would probably never be able to resist the pull of Art in his bed during their good days. Still crazy about Art after all these years, indeed.

“Is that what you want?”

“Yes,” Art repeated, one of his eyebrows raised almost imperceptibly. “I was hoping there would be some more two-part _harmony_ involved, if you know what I mean.” Paul took a few steps until he was right in front of Art, standing up on his tiptoes to leave a light kiss on the other man’s cheek.

“See if it still works again this time, huh? We can do that. Find me again later,” Paul said, and with a last squeeze of Art’s hand, left the room.


End file.
